Diamond Dust
by Gunz Ablaze
Summary: Jack was a fool to think that there was love when going to the King of Nightmares, but maybe in some life, some twisted path, or different world; maybe there was. (To be revised)
1. Thy King, His Servant

I've been told that I manage to make very good one-shots for character pairings. So, for those who may not have read my one shot works I will give you a brief run through. What this story will consist of are just simple chapter-shots involving Jack and Pitch. Each chapter will be a different shot, taking a different point of view, plot, theme, or 'what-could-have-been,' if two chapters are related to each other it will be labeled so as 'part -'in its chapter name.

If you have an idea that you would like to see as a shot done in the story, please message me and I will gladly brainstorm with you. If you see something that you feel could be improved in this story or in a chapter, please leave a review or comment saying such and how you feel it could be corrected.

-Read bottom note for more details.

* * *

The vine treadles of darkness crawled up the skin of his stomach, before slowly fanning out and over his chest, wrapping firmly around his torso before giving him a good and hard squeeze. It did not hurt, it did not threaten, merely pushed the air out of his lungs before relaxing around him, covering him almost, like a sheet.

_It was an attempt to surprise him, but he was not surprised. He had hoped the King of the Castle would take fast notice of his arrival._

He did not move, nor try to scramble away from the black puddle that formed underneath his feet. The hand shaped appendages that bubbled from the liquid shadow fanned out over him limbs, clawing at his clothing and legs, grabbing firmly to keep him from running; but he had no intention to.

_It was an attempt to scare him, and he was not scared. He had hoped that the King of the Castle would not want him to leave on short notice._

And such lord appeared behind him to loom over his shape, with a crown of dust atop its head; with its coat of iron sand it enveloped his cold figure, gifting him with the sight of the night and cradling him like a babe. Blinking his blue eyes, the only light he had adjusted to see was the feral glow of a cats glare, set on the kill.

_It was an attempt to frighten him, and he was not frightened. He had hoped the King of the Castle would want greet him face to face._

Whether it was the dark itself or the hands that held him, a vice had formed around his neck and squeezed, constricting with the rest of gloom that blanketed around him. What had not hurt at first now burned with the phantom pain of his lungs. False necessity won over pride and he opened his mouth for what was quickly denied him. The king had swooped down and starved him of oxygen, stealing what little breath he had and more, replacing it in his mouth with black molasses.

_It was an attempt to terrify him, and he was not terrified. He had hoped the King of the Castle would be hungry._

The lord nipped at his tongue, the flavor of royalty tinged with cold copper. He knew better than to flinch but did so anyways, punished with a sharp cut to his lips. His arms trapped to his sides began to shake, the coils of his fists unfurling to dig his nails into the talons that gripped him. He could not see the black dots over the black around him, but felt the foreboding promise of the future spin in his head.

_It was an attempt to sway him, and he was not swayed. He had hoped the King of the Castle would want to test his loyalty._

He was not scared, he was not frightened, he was not terrified; he was not swayed by the misunderstood king that quickly broke away, briefly giving him leave to breathe, which was savored with deep and uneven intakes.

"What are you afraid of?" The shadows hissed in their lords stead, tightening unbearably around his limbs, but he had stopped feeling them in the eternity of the exchange. The darkness in him which was once sour, was now sugar; sweet on his lips.

He locked his gaze with the King of the Castle, and gave him a bloodied split-lipped smile.

"You."

_It was an attempt to addict him, and he was addicted. He had hoped the King of the Castle would permit him his request._

So, like a child that craved candy, he asked for one request; for the King to let the darkness fill him again.

_And again._

_And again._

* * *

If poetry in paragraphs annoys you, than this is not the story for you. Not all shots will be worded like this, but most will. I try to make each word in my shots full of meaning and fascination. Also, make note, that not all shots will be this short. There may be some posted that might even be shorter, but unless I feel like I can pack a big punch in such a short post, my chapters will be relatively medium in length.

And now for the gist of the chapter: during the Medieval times it was expected for the guests within their kings castle to please the king with gifts and praise. Even for a small meeting it was considered a very rare occurrence for anyone to get an audience with the king, and even if the odds were slim that a guest was to receive an audience, the guest would always have a gift presentable for the king. By chance the guest is accepted an audience and the gifts are received, the king allows the guest to continue with his or her request and or order of business.

Such gifts that are given could be anything between cattle, jewels, money, property, loyalty, and services.

Jack is offering Pitch his um…ahem…services and loyalty, in letting Pitch have his –soft- way with him. Near the end, Jack also gives Pitch pride in telling him that he is afraid.

And in return for offering his 'gift' Jack is given his chance to speak his request which is granted by letting Pitch 'continue.'

If there is anyone who is thinking 'This is totally OOC' than you would be right, but these shots are purely fan made for fangirls who just wanna see a relationship between the two and for them to get it on. I am one of these fangirls, and I will also say that these shots are not canon to the movie unless stated otherwise in the notes, so for anyone who wants to flame, bring it on bro's.

Please leave a kind review, and more will be up soon.


	2. Fear Stained Ground

For those of you who were kind enough to favorite and even the few of you, who left a review, thank you. I am very happy that the first chapter was interesting enough to be read and commented on. As I wrote in the previous chapter, not all my shots would be poetic, though some will. This shot however, is not one of those.

Please leave a review, if there are any mistakes that I may have missed please leave a comment stating what and where they are located, and I will fix them immediately.

-See bottom note for details.

* * *

'Why am I here?' I nagged at myself, 'Really?'

In front of me is just a patch of dirt; nothing extraordinary, nothing magical, and _definitely_ not a passage that leads to the greatest threat of the Guardians. Nope, in front of me is just dirt. Just a little patch of bare ground surrounded by grass and a few red leaves of September.

There is nothing here; that's what I keep telling myself, but I always come back to check. I _always_ come back, day after day thinking 'there's _gotta_ be something there,' only to find out that there isn't and get into a frowning contest with the dirt.

And that's all it was too, a big round spot dirt; which was odd too, considering that it's already been a year since Pitch was chased into his dungeon, and nothing has grown over the spot. It's like; the grass just knows what was there and is scared or something.

I sighed, giving up leaning on my crook to sit down in front of the patch, setting my stick on my lap and placing my elbow on my leg. I put my cheek on my knuckles and worry at my bottom lip. I blinked down at the brown spot and watch in dull curiosity as a line of nearby ants march close to the once-was-there portal. Expecting them to just march across it, I lift my brows to see them circling around it instead.

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes, "It's not like the grounds just gonna open up underneath you." 'But then again,' I thought, placing my hand on the barren ground with my fingers splayed out, 'I have sneezed before and made it snow.'

I add a little pressure, expecting the ground to give way but, unsurprisingly, it didn't. I was almost tempted to say the ground was cold if it wasn't for the fact that I couldn't feel the cold.

'Why is it so hard for me to believe that there's nothing here?' I grumbled and stretched my arms out before putting them behind my head and laying back to stare at the clouds, except, there was no clouds.

There was no sound either.

I lean back up and glance around at the surrounding trees.

No wind.

No birds.

I couldn't even hear the commotion of the town, and it's practically right next to the place.

'Okay, that's weird.' I stood, and did circles around the abnormality in the ground. The warm colored leaves on the trees had no movement to them, as if the trees themselves were fakes. There were no birds singing, even though they had plenty of branches and ground to perch on. There were no squirrels around gathering nuts for the winter, even though there were acorns filling the trees, but not the ground.

Not the ground…

I about jumped when I felt something crawling up my leg, locking my muscles and expecting the worse I glanced down and greeted the ants that had tracked around the patch, not just a minute ago. I dropped my tensed shoulders to give a small smile to them, and watched as they crawl up my feet, chuckling at how their tiny legs irritated my skin.

"Hey, that tickles." I grin, and twitch my foot for them to get off. But they don't, and they've stop moving. They just sit there on my foot while the rest of them gather on, not bothering to climb up my leg like I expected the bug to do.

I then realize that maybe they're not on my leg to bother me; maybe they're on my leg to get off the ground. I notice that maybe they're as scared as every else around the patch of bare soil; as the birds, the squirrels, the sound, the acorns, and the wind.

They're scared of this place, so scared they're avoiding it.

I look back at the hole and let out what breath I had been holding for, I don't even know how long, and look back at the ants, clinging to me in desperation. They're bugs, yes, insignificant little insects that think based off only instinct.

And they're instincts are telling them to go someplace safe.

I sigh and shake my head, scattering small snowflakes from my hair that melt before reaching the earth. I coo a breeze into carrying my home, convincing it and the clearing around me that all is safe, and that there is nothing to fear. The ants stay clinging to my foot for dear life, so I take them with me, glancing behind me at the ground once more before turning my back to it.

Something inside me told me that I would probably be back tomorrow anyways, even if it was to just stare at a hole in the ground.

* * *

One definition of a hole is a fault or flaw as in; a flaw in nature, or a fault that stands out differently amongst surroundings. In this case, the little patch of ground where Pitch's hole used to be. I normally try to pack a bit of a punch in the last line of my chapters, so as to end them gracefully.

This chapter is taking place in Jack's point of view, and I had a little trouble at first in how I should let this chapter flow. Then I realized that Jack's character is more down to earth and modern than the other guardians, and that made this chapter easier to work with. Jack's a teenager and I expect him to act and sometimes think like one, being stuck in a permanent hormonal stage with his body. But Jack also has three hundred years under his hoodie so he should have his sagely moments at times.

All in all, I believe I kept into Jack's character, or at least within my intake on his character. A comment would be nice to let me know if my assumption of Jack's character is appropriate or not.


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